Gráinne Daly

Reflections of a Redhead

Back in the days of confession boxes and the ritual of relaying misdemeanours to a man in a dark box wearing a white collar, I must confess that I dumbed down the sins. I made minor adjustments so that the Reverend Father wouldn’t think I was a daughter of Satan. If I stole my brother’s …

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The tree went up and I went down. It was looking handsome, freshly decorated and and plump with the weight of tinsel. Fibre optic Santa was winking at me from his abode by the fireplace. The room was almost done, all left to do was to wash the floor and then Christmas could officially commence. …

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I can’t wait to hear absolutely no wedding bells in the New Year. I am at the age where most friends and family have made their hikes up the aisle. I’ve endured the endless wedding preambles, the inordinate expense of charades from Hens to End, the awkwardness of being a single pringle at too many …

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Land in Palermo expecting to arrive somewhere divine on a scale of its Italian cousins  Roma or Venezia and you’ll be sorely disappointed. It’s grim in places and definitely filled with the hum of shady folk having shady conversations in shaded places. The steps of the Opera House, made iconic from that bloody scene in …

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Dear UK, Why are you forsaking us? To turn your back once in a lifetime is hard, but twice? It almost brings a tear to my eye when I think of your latest door slam in the face of your friendly neighbours. But I guess you know best. You always do. Superpowers that you are. …

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Where else only in Ireland would you have names for your sessions? We give them terms of endearment, because the ritual of an Irish session is truly an endearing experience. Take Ophelia for example. Ophelia was a 1 litre bottle of Jameson, 24 can slab of Coors light and 2 bottles of Sauvignon Blanc over fifteen …

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You can’t choose them. You inherit them in a genetic lottery in which there are more losers than winners. Parents are a peculiar case the world over. Everyone has some friends whose parents are top-class and we grow up in a perpetual state of parent-envy. My friend Ciara is one of those people. My friend …

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